PLITVICE LAKES, CROATIA
by Dan Winters (posted by his more techy savvy daughter)
The Lakes
are part of a 300 square kilometer national park (no I don't know the size of a
square kilometer but, it's big). There are sixteen interconnected descending
lakes. They empty into each other pouring down the mountain via hundreds of
waterfalls. There are ponds, streams, lush Avatar/Pandora vegetation, thousands
of trout. The only trails are narrow
wooden boardwalk without hand rails that run over the ponds and streams. For
miles, you tightrope over the set of Jurassic Park. It is a wonder of the
natural world somewhere between Victoria Falls and Sofia Vergara. It's so
freakin lush and exotic, that you think what is it doing in fricken' Nowhere,
Croatia. And what am I doing here? Where are the raptors? Where is Laura Dern?
There have got to be a lot of snakes. Have Marlin Perkins and his assistant Jim
ever been here? I feel another epiphany coming on.
There is a
flaw in the Plitvice perfection, however. It is those damn other park visitors—5,000
of them a day. All of whom started their hike at the exact same time we did. It
was disturbing. It wasn't the pushing and shoving. It wasn't the selfies. It
was when you stopped to enjoy, say a typical Plitvice Lake site—6 or 7
waterfalls crash down into an emerald pool—a hundred and twenty people passed you. Even worse was that the
line of staggering marchers behind them stretched to the horizon, or at least
to the parking lot toilets. You feel driven like cattle. You can't fall back;
Bear Griylls says that the trailing wolves prey on the stragglers, right? It's
too much like those nasty failure nightmares we all have (OK, that I have).
"Golly," you think, "I am on vacation? This is some heavy
mojo." But if you hang in there, relax, take in the scenery, and just let
the crowd go by. The pressure dissipates. Folks take different paths, some
pound ahead or fall behind. Soon enough you are apart, walking at your own pace
and it all becomes really, really, really beautiful. I am thinking of sending
this to Hallmark Cards.
We met Yan
and Anita on the back patio of our Plitvice hotel. Yan approached and won us
over. Never underestimate Flemish charm. We had dinner together: foot and a
half long trout for us, a four inch high stack of pork and potatoes for them.
Dessert was pancakes and jelly. It was pretty hardy Croatian country faire. We
had a great time. What stuck was that Yan was truly a gentleman. We think we
know why. First, he lived in Antwerp, Belgium. Other than a few centuries of
brutalizing the Congo, Belgium is a peaceful country. Their army is, and has
been, like the flagmen of a road construction outfit. An invading army arrives
at their border, they waive them though. If the invaders won't pass,
surrender. Second, he was a retired
schoolmaster. Other than Principal Barkley at Wagner Junior High who had a
couple of screws loose (personal opinion), schoolmasters are pretty agreeable
sorts. But the real reason, was that Yan ate soup every day. How much of a bad
guy can you be if you are eating soup? Why daily soup? Yan explained, "I
like soup." Which would make a pretty good t-shirt logo.
The Lakes
are part of a 300 square kilometer national park (no I don't know the size of a
square kilometer but, it's big). There are sixteen interconnected descending
lakes. They empty into each other pouring down the mountain via hundreds of
waterfalls. There are ponds, streams, lush Avatar/Pandora vegetation, thousands
of trout. The only trails are narrow
wooden boardwalk without hand rails that run over the ponds and streams. For
miles, you tightrope over the set of Jurassic Park. It is a wonder of the
natural world somewhere between Victoria Falls and Sofia Vergara. It's so
freakin lush and exotic, that you think what is it doing in fricken' Nowhere,
Croatia. And what am I doing here? Where are the raptors? Where is Laura Dern?
There have got to be a lot of snakes. Have Marlin Perkins and his assistant Jim
ever been here? I feel another epiphany coming on.
There is a
flaw in the Plitvice perfection, however. It is those damn other park visitors—5,000
of them a day. All of whom started their hike at the exact same time we did. It
was disturbing. It wasn't the pushing and shoving. It wasn't the selfies. It
was when you stopped to enjoy, say a typical Plitvice Lake site—6 or 7
waterfalls crash down into an emerald pool—a hundred and twenty people passed you. Even worse was that the
line of staggering marchers behind them stretched to the horizon, or at least
to the parking lot toilets. You feel driven like cattle. You can't fall back;
Bear Griylls says that the trailing wolves prey on the stragglers, right? It's
too much like those nasty failure nightmares we all have (OK, that I have).
"Golly," you think, "I am on vacation? This is some heavy
mojo." But if you hang in there, relax, take in the scenery, and just let
the crowd go by. The pressure dissipates. Folks take different paths, some
pound ahead or fall behind. Soon enough you are apart, walking at your own pace
and it all becomes really, really, really beautiful. I am thinking of sending
this to Hallmark Cards.
We met Yan
and Anita on the back patio of our Plitvice hotel. Yan approached and won us
over. Never underestimate Flemish charm. We had dinner together: foot and a
half long trout for us, a four inch high stack of pork and potatoes for them.
Dessert was pancakes and jelly. It was pretty hardy Croatian country faire. We
had a great time. What stuck was that Yan was truly a gentleman. We think we
know why. First, he lived in Antwerp, Belgium. Other than a few centuries of
brutalizing the Congo, Belgium is a peaceful country. Their army is, and has
been, like the flagmen of a road construction outfit. An invading army arrives
at their border, they waive them though. If the invaders won't pass,
surrender. Second, he was a retired
schoolmaster. Other than Principal Barkley at Wagner Junior High who had a
couple of screws loose (personal opinion), schoolmasters are pretty agreeable
sorts. But the real reason, was that Yan ate soup every day. How much of a bad
guy can you be if you are eating soup? Why daily soup? Yan explained, "I
like soup." Which would make a pretty good t-shirt logo.
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